


Sol, Luna, and Diana

by hedgeesn



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Fantasy, Horror, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgeesn/pseuds/hedgeesn
Summary: Akko is a young woman that has no evidence that she is a witch herself, but she believes in magic with all her heart. Her journey is just getting started when she accidentally wakes a sleeping princess whose priorities will put a larger target on Akko's back. The age of witches was supposed to be long over, but perhaps an unlikely duo can bring back the good in magic.
Relationships: Diana Cavendish & Atsuko "Akko" Kagari, Diana Cavendish/Atsuko "Akko" Kagari
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	Sol, Luna, and Diana

**Author's Note:**

> So I was going to update my other fic but got stuck on this story while I was supposed to be editing the next chapter. What was meant to be a short story retelling of traditional Sleeping Beauty tales got far away from me as I realized why the story is so hard to retell in a modern context - the source fairy tales are a mess of rape (and cannibalism?) and lack of any agency for women. So instead of another chapter of police brutality, I give you a (not very) sweet, dark and gory Diakko Sleeping Beauty, a version where women don't get raped and girls have BAMF energy. You'll notice the title is taken from Basile, but there are elements of Perrault and Grimm versions included.

_As most tales do, this one starts Once Upon a Time._

_Long had war reigned amongst the scattering of tribes, duchies, and errant kingdoms, aided in part by the machinations of ne’er do well witches. Preying upon their lieges like parasites, famine and death feeding their destructive powers, they maintained their ghastly disorder; ghouls and fiends at their sides_

_Seeking to end the chaos and bring about a new world order, a young king with the assistance of nine fair witches set out to unite the independent lands. Through many a battle they bested each evil witch and eventually managed to unite the land under the mighty king, bestowing it with the name United Kingdoms of Luna Nova. From many prosperous years the golden age of peace was held steady by the gentle and benevolent rule of the Cavendish family and the lovely witch Beatrix, whom he took as his queen. The rest of the witches spread across the land, taking residence in towers that sprouted from the ground overnight by the reports of the people, to watch over each corner of their new land and defend it from evil witches._

_But this tale isn’t about King Cavendish. No, the Cavendishes had two lovely daughters, Bernadette and Daryl. The elder Bernadette was loved by all, fair and kind like her father. Her sister, however, had taken after her mother. The good witches remained in their towers, and of course Beatrix was beloved, but the people remembered the other witches. And Daryl, she was a witch._

_Beatrix rarely departed from her own tower, but when she did it was not to teach Daryl magic. Rather, Beatrix lavished affection upon Bernadette, leaving the younger sister rife with jealousy._

_It came as no surprise that Daryl was beset with bitterness._

_On Bernadette’s twentieth birthday marriage offers came aplenty from across the lands. The Cavendishes held a grand ball, and Bernadette became infatuated with a handsome young lord from a far off kingdom. They soon married, much to the happiness of all the kingdoms._ _But this young lord was distrusting of witches, and drove Daryl away. The eighteen year old witch sought out a place in a far off forest to erect her own tower, and stayed there for some years, without a single letter to her sister despite her many pleas to return._

 _Some years later, Daryl learned through the whispers of her familiars that a young Cavendish was due. On the day of her naming ceremony, a party was to be held, with all nine good witches in attendance to bestow gifts upon the fair child, blessed with the name Diana._ _Daryl, not receiving an invitation of her own, slithered from her tower with rage._

_The first eight of nine bestowed their gifts - whispering in the child’s ears the attributes they wished her to embody, and the strengths she would hold. The doors to the grand hall flew open and Daryl, assuming that all had taken their turn, delivered a curse upon the child._

_Upon her eighteenth birthday, she would prick her finger and die._

_Daryl left as swiftly as she came, no doubt taking a twisted pleasure in the horror of the masses shrinking away from her. She had become everything they feared in a witch. Th_ _e last of the nine witches, the teacher of Beatrix herself, stepped forward. Woodward was a witch of great power, but she was unable to fully cure the curse. Instead, with much effort, she was able to modify it._

_Upon her eighteenth birthday, she would prick her finger and fall into a deep sleep._

_As Diana grew older, she became fair, kind, wise, everything the good witches had guaranteed she’d become. Her grandfather fell ill and passed, buried with the laurels of a beloved hero-king. Her father took the throne, and as Diana reached her eighteenth birthday she was kept in solitude, hoping to prevent her from pricking her finger. Knives, pins, anything with a point was locked away. Locked away in the castle with little to do but await her fate._

_Diana spent the evening before her birthday in the library, book in hand, sitting upon a royal chair. The castle’s hounds, fond of the princess, were let in from the barn to keep her company. It was there that they found her the next morning, asleep in her chair, book in hand, loyal hounds at her feet._

_Full of anger and sorrow, the king and queen sought help across the lands for a cure, but alas, none was found. None of the witches, doctors, or quacks could find a way to wake her._ _Diana’s body, kept pure on her reading throne, book still in hand, was transferred to one of the towers of Chariot the Brave. With her magical protections in place, Diana waited._ _Bernadette soon fell ill in her grief, and the fair queen passed far before her time. Left to his own devices, the ugliness of the new king was laid bare. He waged a war against witches, promising even the nine good witches to a fate of the damned._

_That king came and went, as did many others in the turmoil following._

_No one is sure what will wake Diana, but many princes attempted in the hopes of making her their queen and uniting the kingdoms once more. It came about that perhaps if the kiss of a true king, of true love, graced Diana’s lips that she might awaken._

_One would hope that something as simple as a kiss could cure the world._

  * _From the diaries of the intrepid explorer, adventurer, and witch, Croix Meridies, 636CE_



* * *

Muffled hoofbeats bled through a dense forest. The faint striking of blades against wood and brambles faded into the dusky air. A dozen riders urged their horses through an eerie fog, forcing them through prickling thorns and over rotting logs. The horses' sides and legs were lathered with sweat and pinpricks of blood, fighting against their bridles.

A woman watched the procession from afar, huddled in a cloak. Peering through the fog, she stayed just out of their line of sight as she took advantage of the slow track they made through the forest. If one could truly call it a forest. There were trees, mostly dying where they stood, rotting away with lifeless limbs hanging low to the ground. Vines and brambles covered the forest floor. No life inhabited this forest to carve natural paths. To get through, one would have to suffer the damage of hundreds of thorns constantly pricking at your legs for the length of the forest - which as of yet seemed to be indeterminable.

The woman had found this early on, the hose underneath her tunic shredded from her first attempts to get through the forest. With just a light pack and a short dagger, she had relied on wool of her hose and the meager protection of thin leather gloves to aid her way through. A few hours into the journey, made partially by climbing over the vines and jumping from one precarious rotting branch to another, the woman had heard the sounds of the determined retinue.

A royal retinue, from the banner one poor fellow held. The horse’s fine leather tack and silver ornaments had lost their shine in their battle against the mighty forest, and the linemen’s fine cloaks were in tatters, but the banner was still held high. The Hanbridges, from the looks of it. Another prince to brave the perils of Chariot’s protections. Seeking the sleeping princess, no doubt.

Chariot’s western tower sat in the rich and deeply forested land of Arcturus in the westernmost portion of the previously United Kingdoms of Luna Nova. Whether they could still be called united was truly up for debate the past hundred years - the kingdoms self-governed again, stuck in petty conflicts and witch hunts.

Chariot’s eastern tower was said to sit upon rocky cliffs, inaccessible to humans without the aid of witchcraft. Not that this woman would know, as the eastern coasts of Wedinburgh were many weeks away on foot, and the journey perilous at best.

Chariot herself was said to be missing, but this woman wasn’t here for her or the princess. Not exactly. No, she suspected Chariot was holed up in her other tower, trusting her protections against evil to keep this one safe. The forest itself was the first of many obstacles - it was said that the tower was protected by another type of barrier, which kept out most visitors who could make it past the brambles.

She was after something else of Chariot’s. Perhaps a magical item of sorts, she wasn’t exactly sure herself. But she knew what she sought would be here, it had to be here.

Because Akko was a witch. At least, she believed herself to be one. She had no hard evidence to the matter, for she had never performed magic. But she was absolutely, positively, without a doubt certain that she was a witch, and she would learn how to be one. Despite the lack of faith most of the world held in witches, she still believed in magic that was good and true.

Once, as a child, she saw Chariot. Sightings of witches were told like tales in small villages like Akko grew up in, few and far between as those suspected to be witches were more likely to be burned at the stake, beheaded, or drowned before questions could be asked. But she had also grown up on the tales of the good Chariot, who in centuries past had vanquished all sorts of evils in the land. 

As an orphan among many, common now due to the incessant wars man fought against ghouls, witches, and each other, she had cleaned the floors and latrines of the small shack their town had called a tavern. A mysterious traveler coming through entertained a small crowd with sleight of hand and various tricks, to the amusement of many. Some had the suspicion that these tricks were magic, but Akko knew on sight that it was not. They were fun, and she had every desire to learn the same tricks, but they weren’t _magic_.

That traveler though, a woman with dark hair and an enigmatic smile, had found Akko near midnight, crouched behind the tavern with welts across her back and thighs, remnants of ire over a mug of ale she dropped earlier that evening. The woman had knelt before her, hands gently holding her own, as she whispered. Her eyes flashed red in the moonlight, and with a smile she was gone, along with the searing welts.

That was _magic._ And once Akko felt it, she knew. It lingered in her heart, some days she could feel it welling inside of her, a trickle trying to force its way out.

But she didn’t know how. The woman had disappeared from their town the next morning, and Akko became determined to meet her once again. If she could just become an apprentice, she could learn how. But becoming Chariot’s apprentice meant finding her, meant journeying to the eastern tower, and it meant having access to her magic already.

Akko didn’t know what she was looking for, but she was going to find it here because she believed it to be true. And that’s all she needed to know.

She continued to follow the procession quietly, wincing as she gathered more scrapes and bruising, giggling when the bannerman got caught in a tree, shredding the Hanbridge crest to pieces. She had entered the forest early around noon, though once reaching the depths it was hard to say what time it truly was. They kept their pace, grim faces determined.

When they finally reached the edge of the forest, one of the riders tore off his crested helmet, yelling encouragement at his men. From the distance Akko couldn’t make out much of the young Hanbridge, but he was likely handsome. One of the many sons of the king, she couldn’t name them all between the bastards and the legitimate heirs. Her village was part of the Hanbridge kingdom, but with the state of things, the people were far removed from the nobility. She had never even seen their castle, though from the looks of their dress and equipment it was likely just as fine, probably finer, and filled with riches Akko could only dream of laying eyes on.

The prince dismounted and led his horse to the forest's edge, where the vines and bramble reformed into a thick wall around the inner courtyard. The barrier here was said to be ten meters tall, with the tip of Chariot’s iron tower peeking over it. Akko’s heart sped up on her first sight of the tower, which had been invisible from the distant outer edges of the dead forest.

The group led their horses along the edge of the fence, looking for the entry in. With knowledge from princes past to guide their efforts, they eventually found the wrought iron gate. The iron held no sign of rust despite the humidity and lack of maintenance over the decades, eerily holding fast with the slight wind that rushed from the other side of the courtyard. The prince held up a hand to direct his retinue behind him. Presumably he ordered them to stay as he laid his hands on the iron gate.

Akko felt a hum that trembled through the vine wall, vibrating to her light boots and traveling into her veins. The gate slowly pushed open, smoothly, without a squeak of hinges.

The uncanny gate caused the retinue to shiver and step back. The lot of magic fearing guards were perfectly inclined to heed their prince’s orders and stay behind. He entered the gate, drawing the sword from his hip as it neatly closed back behind him.

Akko watched this process, trying to find her way in without getting caught. She would no doubt be cut down by the guards if she were spotted, and climbing ten meters of thorny vines without falling or taking an arrow would be impossible.

She looked back behind her, along the expanse of the vines she had walked past with the guards. There had been no openings. She waited, growing impatient and frustrated. Setting her hand on the wall of vines in front of her, she tried desperately to feel for that hum from earlier, that she knew was the faint stimulation of magic in the air. 

Nothing happened, and Akko scuffed her boot on the ground in a petty bout of frustration. 

She was broken from escalating into a tirade against the wall by the shouts of the men by the gate. Standing on the edge of the forest’s brambles was a grand elk, stamping a graceful leg against the ground, scuffing it. It stared at the men before it, some twenty meters away, peering from under a massive rack. Thin vines graced the points, interlacing between each spire and hanging off to the ground. The elk leveled a look at the men and raised its head to bugle, long and low.

The men at the gate slowly drew bows and swords, certainly not looking a gift elk in the mouth when the promise of a dinner consisting of more than just hardbread and old jerky lingered in front of them. The elk lingered a moment then took off along the line of the wall as the first arrow whizzed past it. Quickly mounting horses, the men took off after it.

Equally unable to let opportunities run away from her, Akko ran to the gate. She tore her gloves off, stowing them in her pack, and slammed her dirty palms against the cold iron, pleading in her head for it to let her through. Unlike the prince, the gate held firm against her, despite her efforts to plant her feet into the ground and push with all her might.

Unable to make the gate move, she settled for the next best thing. She climbed.

The gate was just as tall as the wall itself, but the wrought iron had fewer spikes poking out of the intricate design than the vines had thorns. Despite what she had assessed as an easier climb, she slipped multiple times, eventually knicking her hand with the edge of a spike and falling back to the ground. She sat before the gate, tears welling in her eyes from frustration and pain. Gathering her hands into fists, she leaned forward and slammed them into the gate, blood mixing into the iron and soil below.

“Please. Please let me in. I have to find Chariot - it’s the only thing I want in this world. I need to learn how to be a witch. A _good_ one, I promise.” Akko’s voice cracked with a sob and she closed her eyes.

She slowly pitched forward as she fell to the ground, the gate opening before her. Scrambling to her feet, she ran through, then turned back to the gate as it shut. She whispered a thank you as the hum faded from her veins once more, and turned herself to her goal.

The iron tower sat in a barren courtyard, the remnants of rosebushes long dead sinking into the soil. There were no weeds or overgrowth, just lifelessness in the soil and cobblestones. The tower itself wasn’t very wide, but it was certainly tall. It seemed to be a smooth piece of metal going all the way up, as if the iron had just raised straight from the ground to finish in a pointed peak. 

Akko took a deep breath and strode towards the heavy iron door. It had an intricate design of starry patterns swirling through metal grooves, with a raven’s head situated as a knocker. Forgoing the knock, she grabbed the handle and opened the door.

Inside was just as bare, nothing to be seen in the large room, no furniture or decorations. Ahead of her loomed a spiral staircase leading clockwise around a pillar. Akko quickly mounted it, ignoring the pain in her muscles from the long walk through the forest and the stinging cuts on her legs. She wrapped her bloody hand in cloth from her pack as she walked. Halfway up, legs screaming in pain and breath heaving, she placed her right hand against the smooth surface of the wall. She had lost count of the steps she had taken after a few hundred, but she could see her goal nearing the top.

She willed her steps to grow quieter as she reached the landing at the top, the stairwell surfacing into a platform in front of another iron door, this one with the designs of birds flying through a night sky engraved into the metal. It was slightly ajar and she peeked in as she heard a voice.

The prince, very winded, stood before a pristine royal blue throne wiping the sweat from his face. He was handsome enough, ignoring the sweat drenching his curly brown locks and dripping into his groomed eyebrows. The room itself was small, but filled with about half a dozen metal bookcases, built into the walls, shelves hanging out like jaws.

Perched upon the throne, legs tucked delicately under her, a book open on her lap and her chin resting upon an open palm where the arm rested on the cushy royal blue arm, was a beautiful blonde woman. Her features were delicate and calm, and it appeared that she breathed slowly, only given away by the slight rise of her chest and an errant curl moving near her face. She wore a lovely gown, far out of style now, but light blue with accents of lace.

 _That’s got to be the most uncomfortable position to spend a century in_ , Akko thought.

The prince appeared to have caught his breath finally, and Akko assumed he had only made it to the room a little bit before he did. He tucked his handkerchief back into the pocket of his breeches and straightened his shoulders.

“Hello, Diana. I am Prince Andrew Hanbridge, seventh son of the king of Hanbridge. I come before you today…” Akko tuned out. The sweaty prince gave a long, less than enthralling speech about his intentions to wake Diana, filled with nonsense and flowery language. She couldn’t focus on the stupidity of it, so she huffed some air up at her bangs sticking to her forehead and decided to spend the moment readjusting her hair in the leather band that held it up. 

Finally it appeared that he finished his speech, and Akko peered back in as he walked towards the sleeping woman.

“I am going to kiss you now.” 

_Not even a “sorry I’m doing this without your permission?”_ Akko silently scoffed.

He leaned forward, awkwardly trying to accommodate for the angle of her head in her palm, and pressed his lips against hers. He lingered there, and Akko felt herself gag as she thought of the sweat accumulating on the poor woman’s face. Evidently satisfied with the length of the kiss, he stepped back and watched.

Akko silently fiddled with her knife in the minutes that followed. First the prince stood before Diana, then a few minutes in he started tapping his foot. When that got him nowhere and the princess was decidedly not awake, he rushed forward to plant another kiss on her, then backed away to pace.

Eventually he uttered a string of curses and kicked one of the bookshelves in frustration, wincing as the shock went through his boot. He threw up his hands and started walking back towards the door, evidently giving up. Just one among many princes over the years that had failed.

He slammed open the door and Akko ducked out of the way, taking advantage of his ire and lack of awareness to slip past him and into the room. As his steps faded down the staircase Akko breathed a sigh of relief. She looked around the room, her own frustration peaking as she realized there was nothing but books.

She picked up a few, holding them out in front of her and open, skimming through them for anything that could be of use. Diagrams? Pictures? Most appeared to be lengthy texts with few supporting images. 

Akko placed another large tome back and ran her fingers through her bangs in frustration. With a sigh she walked towards the sleeping woman, dropping her pack in front of her. Leaning at the waist, she watched the woman’s face. She noted with disgust a slight dampness around the woman’s mouth. Reaching into her pack she brought out a handkerchief to dab at her lips and cheek.

“This must suck for you. I hope you’re not awake in there to remember all this, because that was nasty.” The woman breathed in deeply in front of her, unmoving.  
  
“Like I know you’re not awake to give them permission or anything, but come on, show a little courtesy to a pretty princess.” Akko sighed and squatted in front of the throne.  
  
“You’re like, way prettier than he would ever deserve anyway. Hope you land a good one when you do wake up, I guess.” She rested her palms on her knees and looked down at the book that was in Diana’s lap.

“Wish I knew what I was looking for, you know? It looks like you liked books… Is that why you’re in here? A room full of books as a consolation prize for managing to nap through over a century?”  
  
Akko glared at the bookshelves.

“Must be nice, I guess. I want to go to sleep and wake up in the future. Ideally when witches are back, you know? They’re impossible to find now. Well, except for me. I’m here. Not that I can do magic. Wouldn’t know how to help you even if I did.” Tucking her bangs to the side, Akko slid the book to the side to skim through as she chatted.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind kissing you either but it feels kind of creepy to do that while you’re… you know. I don’t know how men have the guts to do that. It’s like they don’t care how you’ll feel waking up to find out hundreds of grody princes slobbered on your face.” The book appeared to be handwritten, though she couldn’t make out the contents. As she fiddled with the pages she noted the hand under the book holding it open.

“Holy splinters! That’s got to hurt.” In the woman’s right index finger a piece of straw, about an inch long from the skin, was embedded in her finger. Thin and pale yellow, it was no wonder it hadn’t been noticed before. “Let me just get that for you. Can’t do anything about this weird position, but at least I can do that for you. Maybe it’ll give you better dreams, eh?”  
  
Akko pulled the piece of straw out of her finger and dropped it to the ground. She reached back to the book in her lap to flip a few more pages and huffed again.  
  
“Dammit, I don’t know what I’m doing.”  
  
“Curious, that was the question I was about to ask you.” Akko started back, eyes widening and she lifted them and met cerulean blue. They were piercing, and the woman’s peaceful face was replaced by a slight frown.

“Holy shit. You’re awake. Did I do that?” Akko’s voice raised in pitch with surprise.

“Another curious coincidence. Did you?” Diana took her chin from her hand and stretched her arm, wincing as the muscles moved for the first time in many decades.

“I mean, probably. The last prince who kissed you left… an hour ago maybe?” Akko sat back on her behind, hands splayed against the metal floor as she cocked her head.  
  
“Kissed? Why…” Diana’s face bloomed with confusion.  
  
“I mean, you’ve been asleep for like a century and a half now, princess. They thought you’d wake up to… a kiss from a prince or something? I don’t know, humans are crazy.” Akko babbled, then winced as she realized she had revealed quite a bit of information that could have been due a little more tact.  
  
“I don’t… My parents?” Diana’s confused stare pierced Akko to the bone. She looked down at the floor, guilt pooling in her stomach. 

A terse minute went by as Diana quietly processed the information through Akko’s silence.

“What has become of the kingdom, then?” Diana asked calmly. Akko peered up at her from under her bangs, taking in this new stoicism that had settled over Diana’s face.

“Well… It’s kind of back to how it was before, maybe? Except everyone hates witches. Well, they always did, but more now after you, you know…” Akko trailed off as she fiddled with her shredded hose and the frayed ends of her tunic.

“I see… and the Cavendishes?” Diana inquired, steepling her hands together as she rested her elbows back onto the chair.  
  
“Well, there’s your grandmother, who is probably still around somewhere. No one’s managed to kill any of the olde witches yet. And then your… aunt? I think. I just know the story, you know. You’re kind of a fairy tale now.” Akko admitted. The only reason she knew anything about the nine olde witches in general was due to her personal interest in the matter. She pulled her knees up and towards her body, wrapping her arms around them. “You’re in Chariot’s western tower right now.”  
  
Diana closed her eyes again. Akko marveled at her passive face, and wondered if her eyes were sensitive after being closed for so long. If they were, Diana certainly didn’t show it.  
  
“So I should seek out my grandmother, I suppose.”

“I mean, yeah. Or you could do whatever.”  
  
Diana’s eyes shot open and narrowed at her.  
  
“Whatever? What do you mean by that?”  
  
“Well… You don’t have a kingdom or an army. You don’t have to marry some prince that kissed you. You could just be… Diana? If you wanted.” Akko nervously fiddled under Diana’s gaze, which became more ferocious as the words continued to pour out of her mouth.  
  
“No, I don’t think that’ll do. I am a Cavendish, and it is my duty to continue the legacy. Even with some time since the last order… I will fulfill my birthright.” Diana stood suddenly, decisively, then collapsed back into the chair just as quickly with a wince. “But I suppose while I recover, I can entertain a boon of your request, since you are responsible for my waking.” Diana schooled her features as she massaged her legs. 

Akko covered her face with her uninjured hand to prevent a giggle coming out. _The princess of a fairy tale, awoken to fulfill her legacy… but falling to pins and needles._ She tried to resist it but couldn’t help but snort through her hand. Diana cast her a withering glance.  
  
“To whom do I owe my thanks, and what do you seek?” 

This could be an opportunity for Akko, at least.

“Well, I’m Akko. And I’m a witch. I think. I’m pretty sure. I believe it!” She stumbled over the words that she had never uttered out loud to another person. “And I guess here I need a book on magic. To learn magic. Like, a tome? Textbook? A beginner’s guide? Dunce’s first spell?” 

“I see. There aren’t many books here, but it _is_ a witch’s tower. There ought to be something.” Diana peered curiously at her, a question poised on her tongue, but left hanging as Akko exuberantly responded.  
  
“Right! Wait, this isn’t a lot of books? This is the most I’ve seen in my life!” Akko leaped up to her feet. “But one thing, Diana, and this is where I need help.”

She paused, finger on her chin and cocking her head in a display of cheeky innocence.

“I can’t read.”


End file.
